Insignia: Scars of Lumierna

Fifteen

"Stirling," Janell says.

Stirling stops midway through slipping his shoes on. He gapes up at her as if he didn't notice she was even there until she spoke.

"Stirling, I was able to get the ingredients and make some gingerbread. Do you want to eat some with me before you go?"

He stares at his mother while making his decision, her hands with interlocked fingers held up to her chest.

He thinks of Ignis patiently waiting for him at the cave. "Can I take it to go? My friend is waiting and I want to leave before Father assigns me tasks."

Janell's hands drop to her sides. "It won't take long."

"I really need to go. Maybe next time?" Stirling edges towards the door impatiently. Even being only thirteen years of age, he has grown almost as tall as Janell.

Janell sags, disheartened. "Let me wrap the gingerbread up for you."

"I hate when they practice down there. I can barely tell who's who," Stirling says, referring to the class of Riders they have been religiously watching the past few years.

They are in the midst of practicing the basics of flying at the Winged Cavalry base planted at the entryway to the canyon.

Stirling and Ignis sit lifted above the trees on a tor, a rocky outcrop rising separately from the rest of the canyon's incline. Stirling cups the gingerbread in his hand as he picks off a pebble size piece and pops it into his mouth, savoring the strong spices with an underlying sweetness.

Including Ignis, the class's dragons have grown a substantial amount. They were not to their full potential size but they had reached the size and stature to support a young Rider on their back.

Stirling sets his gingerbread off to the side and pulls out his journal and stick of sketching charcoal. He opens it up to an unfinished sketch of him flying on the back of Ignis.

"They still haven't gone full airborne yet. The only person who can make it around the track without any issues is Amiria," Stirling says, adding a condescending emphasis to his voice when he says her name.

"First thing tomorrow we can give it a shot," he adds.

"Give what a shot?" Ignis wonders.

"Flying together," Stirling clarifies.

"Why don't we try it right now," Ignis suggests.

Stirling peers down over the steep incline of the massive stacks of rocks they were perched on. Climbing up and down is easy enough. There are plenty of hand and foot holds for a safe passage. When Ignis flies up or off their perch, he makes a steep dive, gliding down into the coverage of the trees and out of sight. Stirling's stomach lurches as he imagines diving head-first into the solid ground.

"Nope! No, we—uh—don't want to get spotted. Let's go to the spot where you practiced flying. There's just not enough time today to hike all the way up there and still have an amplitude of practice time," he answers by making up a reasonable excuse to save his face from kissing the rocks as gravity pulls him into her arms.

Shaking his nerves off, he turns his attention back to the class who have taken a break from flying to begin practicing hand-to-hand combat.

Nellie hides, trapped below her wooden shield as Amiria hounds on the roof, wielding two practice swords made of durable wood to prevent them from splintering under the stress of multiple strikes.

Amiria has chosen to wield two swords over a sword and shield, allotting her the favor in speed over Nellie, who had now lost her sword when Amiria was able to trap it between hers, casting it to the side. Amiria's movements are a blur, her swords following one another as if they are connected.